Memories of John
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From Robert
John was a fantastic father. Growing up I knew I was lucky to have him as my dad. He was nicer than any other dads I encountered, and my friends all liked him. I learned to call him John when I was a child, from Richard Beaumont, a family friend slightly younger than me, who always called his parents Roger and Janet. Grandad Ayton thought it was disrespectful and didn’t approve.
John was always a happy and positive person. I think he inherited this from his mother Alice. I struggle to think of an instance of him being in a bad mood. I do recall he was very cross with me when, at the age of 10, I threw stones through the glass of the front door. But that is almost the only time. Perhaps I was generally a well behaved child, but he was incredibly tolerant and patient.
He was interested in so many cultural things, particularly history, archaeology, art and music, and he was a huge influence on his family. When we were children he used to paint pictures and carve wooden figures in his spare time. Later on he met the potter Albert Shelley in the 1980’s and began working with ceramics, which he carried on doing until last year. He rediscovered painting in the last few years. His paintings and his figures were always humorous. He could not do ‘serious’ work and had a dread of what he thought of as pretentious.
When we were young we were occasionally taken to archaeological digs, but his great love was of field walking, especially looking for stone age implements. As a teenager we often went on weekend walks across ploughed fields in various parts of Norfolk. He was often very successful in finding hand axes, arrow heads, and other less obvious tools. He took several to the Castle Museum. One unusually shaped flint was declared by the experts to be a special arrowhead designed for cutting the tendons on a birds leg (!).
In fact John was always looking for free things. Any trip to the coast meant beachcombing, especially for fossils. He loved to lay down on a beach examining the stones. This is something he continued to do to the end, getting out of his wheelchair on Aldeburgh beach last year to crawl across the shingle.
As a child I had a number of obsessions, and John indulged me in them. First was birdwatching. At primary school I had an inspirational teacher, Mrs E A Robinson, who instilled in me her love of birds. I relied on John to take me bird watching, which he did willingly and he developed a life-long love of birds and nature.
Then in the mid 1970’s I developed an interest in bottle collecting, like many others at the time. We were perhaps a bit late in starting, but John got as hooked as me and we spent many weekend afternoons digging Victorian rubbish dumps. Sometimes we were trespassing, so I stood guard as he dug. We were once caught by an angry gamekeeper but John managed to smooth talk his way of trouble and we ended up going back to the gamekeeper's house to see his own collection of bottles. He also had an incredible collection of rare, and valuable, polished stone hand axes. John even managed to persuade him to give him a hand axe, but his wife came out and forbade him to.
Growing up we knew quite a bit about town planning. As a teenager I vowed that I would not do the same job as him, not because I wasn’t interested, but I thought I should do something different. However, at the age of 22 I decided that my future did lie in planning, albeit in urban design and conservation rather than strategic structure planning. Of course I have not regretted following in his footsteps.
We had so many lovely times together. I owe him so much and I will miss him hugely.
From Sarah
I have so many happy memories of Grandad, he enjoyed and encouraged so many of my interests like reading, history, art, churches, politics and much more.
When I was young, I would sneak into Nonni and Grandad's room before anyone else was awake, climb into bed where Grandad would read to me. Though as a teenager I would wake up much much later, it was always a comfort that Grandad would be drinking his coffee in the conservatory watching the birds and reading the newspaper.
I remember he was disappointed I did not take history as a GCSE, but I was always interested in it when he told me the stories that seemed boring in class. He always had too many books when he encouraged us to pilfer from his stores, I would take medieval history books. I went on to do an MA in medieval studies, which I don’t think I would ever have chosen without his, and Noggin the Nog’s, influence.
Another thing he passed on was his love of art. When we were young he wrote and illustrated a children’s book, “Gerald the snotty nosed dragon”, and made ceramic figurines of the characters, so I have always had the Pooleys and Gerald sitting on my shelves. He made crazy but amazing cards for birthdays and christmas, usually featuring a number of usual suspects whose origins were lost or had warped over time.
He always asked to see any new artworks I did, and when I emailed them he would send back his own from his art class (though they mainly seemed to be cubist paintings despite the fact they learnt a new style each week). This last year I sent him collages I had made, and he would umm and ahh over their “meaning” (and often sheepishly give constructive criticism), which gave me the challenge of coming up with something pretentious to answer him with. Then he started collaging with Lily, and coming up with stories about what his collages meant.
The house at Bluebell Road was a perfect retreat - there’s a reason he coined it “the spa”. He was always singing and jolly and pootling about. When we were young we would sit and watch films, our favourites were the Water-Babies, and the Sneeches (growing a moral compass based off the Sneeches). There was one time Grandad put on an episode of Morse for us but had not recorded the last 5 mins… we never found out who the killer was. But despite the recording errors, I loved going to visit Nonnie and Grandad.
Their garden always felt magical with Grandad’s ceramic Poseidon or dragons peering out of the bushes. It wouldn't be a trip to Norwich without us birdwatching from the conservatory, him showing us the newts in the pond or jumping up at 10pm with a hedgehog sighting. We would walk down to the river and along to the Sainsbury Centre every visit, and we always had cake and coffee (my first tastes of coffee were when Grandad used to let me spoon the foam off the top of his cappuccinos) to look forward to when we got back!
As I got older and started watching football with Troy, I became a fully fledged Canary to Grandad’s approval. We went to some friendlies, though not sure we saw any goals, and he would email me, hopeful for their promotion next season. He confessed in an email that he would only listen to them on the radio, as they lost every time he watched on TV, but I think last year they lost every time he listened on the radio too. It was great fun though, buying our scarves at the game and learning 'On the Ball City'.
He always encouraged debate, even if we ended up going round in circles. We had many discussions over the years and I think learning to debate politics with Grandad gave me a very good lesson in frustrating opponents. But it was always just for fun and could be quelled with a cup of tea and a biscuit.
I am so thankful for all the things Grandad encouraged in me, and all the silly fun he brought our family over the years.
From Bob
It’s with pleasure I remember at Dar Anfa introducing John to Winnie the Pooh at a time when he was of an age to enjoy being read to. He carried a fondness for it for many years along with another, later, shared literary memory of Gerald Kersh’s Sergeant Bill Nelson and other wartime tales. And also Saki. And I’ve always been grateful for his introducing me to fossil-hunting, beginning with. collecting seaside pailfuls of belemnites on West Runyon beach and continuing at other and many holiday venues along with prehistoric artefacts. I particularly remember a holiday stroll in the New Forest when he used a projecting flint nodule to scramble up a slope which, when it came away in his hand, was recognisable as a Palaeolithic axe head. And he had an enviable collection of flint tools and Roman pot sherds which he discovered in the Norfolk area over several years.
How could I forget Saki? And the Schartz Metterklume method? And The Forbidden Horsepond? I think that last one was probably the topic of the last Saki exchange between John and me. The first verse - the whole available on line:
A mouse who prayed for Allah’s aid Blasphemed when no such aid befell.
The cat that feasted on that mouse thought Allah managed vastly well.
Pray not for aid to one who made a set of never-changing laws,
But in your need remember well, He gave you speed, or guile, or claws.
(There’s quite a bit more).
And another archaeological reminiscence and another axe head - from Bawburgh possibly but not necessarily, and a walk over a ploughed field awaiting development - when John picked up an unmistakeable later Stone Age example. He handed it to me for appraisal, and when I tossed it back, landing at his feet, I was severely reprimanded for treating it so casually. He really had an eye for it, combined with patience and industry.
From Ann
Dad didn't have a religious faith but his moral compass was firmly set on the right course. And we have tried to follow his example. He had a collection of familiar truisms that he would quote at us as we were growing up, and we would tease him for, saying "here comes cliche No. 219..." But we did absorb them and they became the bedrock of my outlook on life anyway.
Do as you would be done by
Its all part of life's rich tapestry
There is always someone worse off than you
Never take life or yourself too seriously
Judge people on how they treat others
Look for the best in people
He hated pretension, arrogance, pomposity. He treated everyone he met exactly the same, with warmth, respect and a smile. He never changed. And finally, if we had been teasing him or mocking him for one of his many eccentricities he'd say "You'll miss me when I'm gone". And we do. More than he could ever have imagined.
From Jane Wareham
Remembering a dear friend and the art discussions we had and watching the birds from your conservatory. I shall miss all those times
From Berni
John had so many interests and projects he was involved with but for me there were two in particular which we shared: town planning and art. You’d think that these were quite separate but with John they were very much intertwined in his job and career as a town planner. There was art in his approach to his job. He had such a creative attitude to his work and brought fresh insights from different perspectives to problems and challenges we dealt with. As with his art he was able to see different angles that wouldn’t have occurred to many of us....and again as with his artistic creations there was a humour and sense of fun in there too.
I have known John as a friend ...and I hope he wouldn’t mind me saying ...as a mentor for over 35 years. I first met him as a refugee from the abolition of the Greater London Council. One of my first memories early on was concerning a problem I’d created with our Property colleagues. They were to put it mildly a bit unhappy on onerous London style planning conditions I’d put on land owned by the Council for a proposed quarry which reduced the asset value. I was more than a tad apprehensive about the meeting with them but John chaired it calmly and fairly, listening to all the different sides before arriving at an agreed outcome. Bringing the meeting to a close he looked at me with a hint of a twinkle in his eye and said “Berni, here at Norfolk we like to share the blame”. I was of course much relieved but it set up my regard for John as someone you could trust and would help you and that likewise you would want to do the very best for him in your work.
Over the years we worked together particularly with the Planning Committee. We had Members from all different backgrounds and with different and conflicting interests. He would have to give them advice and recommendations which were far from popular at times but there was respect for his advice helped again by his humour....and also dare I say it that he was seen a Narfuk bor and not one of em foreigners that most of us Planners were!
Planning Committees were of course always very serious affairs!.... sometimes exciting and tense or sometimes a bit tedious. The later was particularly difficult if you were sitting next to John when he would go into doodling mode. You knew where it would end up. He’d start with some abstract creations in the margins of his papers and then if it got particularly boring he would start on caricatures of certain Members . That’s when you had to bite your tongue to stop the giggles!
I’d been making ceramics for a few years in London but when I left I lost my access to the GLC kilns. I still had my wheel so there I was throwing my pots but with nowhere to fire them. It was then again John’s generosity and kindness which stepped in and he offered to fire them. Not only that but it was a gas fired kiln with all its fantastic effects and possibilities....and he let me use his and Robert’s wonderful glazes too.
That started a long collaboration and also, if you like, led eventually to second careers for both of us after we left the Council at different times...John exhibiting his ceramic creatures and characters and selling them ...or giving them as presents....for me it was making scrap metal sculptures. John was my very supportive and critical friend on my journey and we did many swaps. I’ve been looking at his creations in my house and garden and what strikes me is not just the humour and wit which everyone loves in his work but the way he observes and captures the essence of the creatures and characters in his figurative pieces...what some might say is his more serious work, although he might not agree! It’s the turn of the head, the subtle twist in the body or the gaze that he is able to express with the clay.
We did many exhibitions and shows together over the years like at Alby and the Encore Exhibitions at the Wymondham Art Centre. That was a particular delight to be involved in and to look forward to where he put together a group of artist friends with very different styles and media. That was very special.
John had strong views about art and we had many discussions ...and sometimes different views about what art or “good” art was! One of his big horrors was ...pretentiousness! And he wasn’t shy in calling it out! Here’s an example....
Every year Norfolk Open Studios would put on a Taster exhibition at the Forum. There was always a Private view to which I would always invite John and my daughter Carla. After all the opening speeches and the popping open of the wine, I’d go off to do the hob nobbing. John and Carla would then dive off and do critiques of the work on display. He would be his usual forthright self and Carla told me she had to sometimes squeeze his arm and say ....”the artist is right behind you”! ...he’d respond with his cheeky grin...but Carla said that she thought he usually got it right!
There are so many fond memories and stories to enjoy and remember about John. We have been very lucky to have known him. He will be very much missed and in particular for me it will be his kindness and generosity of spirit.
A big thank you to John’s family for inviting me to say these few words. John and Pom have raised a very lovely family.
From Julie and John Chambers
We’ve only known John for about 4 years but count ourselves blessed . A visit to Wymondham Arts Centre where , in an exhibition, we saw one of his wonderful pub scene boxes but then found it was already sold, was the start of our friendship with John . We were given his email and advised to contact him to see if he could make another and that was it - the friendship began . We loved our visits to John’s or he to ours or else walks around Wymondham , ending up in the Green Dragon pub. We’ve decided that what we loved about John was that he always smiled, was full of human warmth , interested in everything , had an impish sense of humour, fine political thinking and just made us feel good . It was a shame that Covid meant we couldn’t see him as much as we used to last year but at least we saw him briefly at Christmas . We are really going to miss him but have one of his lovely pub boxes and a fine statue of Captain Webb which he gave us and which stands as a permanent reminder of John . Thanks John for being a friend who shared and taught us so much .
From Roger and Janet Beaumont
Those Blue Remembered Hills Our friendship with the Aytons started 60 years ago and never looked like running out of steam. We looked to the future. We talked about arranging visits. Then the music stopped .Sadly, there will be no visits but at least we have a rich past to think back on . We have many happy memories of events and of the man ; memories of shared family holidays, return visits to Norfolk taking advantage of Ayton hospitality to visit old haunts and to listen to John run through his repertoire of music hall songs , the Singing Postman and the jingle “Hurrah for Betox such a delightful smell”. now presumably no longer available even in the most self -respecting grocer’s.
More recently, we have enjoyed an annual rendezvous at the Royal Academy Summer Show. This was no longer practical after 2018 but our contact online and on the line thankfully continued with satisfying frequency. Time spent with John was always time well spent, never humdrum and invariably entertaining and informative whether we were exchanging family news, discussing affairs of state or some other topic of mutual interest or of little consequence. John was such easy company, so relaxing and companionable.
Similarly, it was easy to admire his talent, his outlook on life and his values. We see daily reminders of John all around our house in paintings and pottery, from dragons and dodos to Cabmen and Pooleys and the Small Man with the Massive Dog. We really love them all and are lowered by the loss of such a gifted friend. It was a privilege to know him.
From Bill Ayton
I'd like to share what your father has meant to me. The American branch of South-Central Norfolk Ayton has been hanging on by a slender thread ever since my great grandfather (another fine John Ayton) immigrated here a century and a half ago. While I have some Ayton-side relatives in the US, except for my two sons and one grandson, the only Ayton-surnamed relatives I have are all in England. Of these, for the last two decades or so, the dearest of these to me has been your lovely--yes, I can echo that description--father. And I'd include your late mother as well.
I was unprepared for how hard your news would hit me. Having no siblings of my own, the grief I feel today reveals what it's like to lose a brother. I have not grieved this hard since the deaths of my own parents several decades ago. I always felt his love and I know he felt mine. I, too, shall miss him sorely.
Then there's the whole genetic-genealogy thing. Your dad was the first link in a chain of sine-qua-non(s) and fortuitous events that led to a reconstructed history of the Ayton male line starting in what today is Bilbao, Spain, circa 2500 BCE (still the Neolithic). Thereafter, the line migrated across Ancient Gaul, up the Rhône to the headwaters of the Seine, and, circa 400 BCE, to what today is Eastern Yorkshire, where they called themselves the Parisi. They survived the Roman Conquest, the Angle incursions and very likely they were English thegns until the Norman Conquest.
As you may know, a pile of evidence points to West Ayton as the eponym of our surname. Genetics reveals that the nearest related male line(s) to us split off during the Roman period, so our Ayton "clan" is genetically unique. We also now know that the most recent common ancestor of South-Central Norfolk Ayton was born somewhere in the Vale of Pickering circa 1465 (around the time of the coronation of Edward IV York) and settled first in King's Lynn. Perhaps the best way to portray how we could not have discovered all this without your father through the three attachments.
I'm not sure how much of the above-mentioned genealogical and genetics your dad passed on, so I should mention that somewhere he has a copy of the book whose title page appears as an appendix (it contains a large section on the Vale of Pickering). As for the reconstructed ancient history of the L-165 male haplogroup, it can be found at http://mcleod-cabin.net/ayton/. Annie, if you want to know more, I'd be happy to share with you some day.
One of my fondest memories of your father was our off-the-wall running joke about the vaunted and noble art and science of bicycle holding. We enjoyed many an hour trying to one-up each other with the most outlandish variation of this theme.
I'll never forget his loving-kindness, generosity and splendidly droll sense of humo(u)r.
From Teresa Moseley
I met John at the U3A Ideas and Issues Group in early 2016 and was soon under the spell of his quiet charm and courtesy. We usually travelled to and from the meetings together, mainly in John's car, when we had a private debrief of the day's discussions. We were not really close, compared to those of his friends who had known him a long time; but I was soon under his spell. Latterly we were only able to have few, lovely coffee mornings in each others gardens, with my husband John and once with Ann. These were very pleasant occasions and I came to appreciate John's good natured, social humanity. John is one of the nicest people I ever met.